Tales of Ducklings
by Transformers 0
Summary: A series of drabbles (and possibly some mini-arcs) set in DuckTales 2017. Some drabbles are based off of canon, some off of head-canons, and some off of fan speculation and theories. Requests are closed.
1. Front and Rear

**A drabble-fic series based on my new favorite Disney show,** _ **DuckTales (2017)**_ **!**

* * *

 **Tales of Ducklings**

 **Front and Rear**

"Here it is! The Entrance to the Haunted Rodeo Stadium of Torero!" Webby quacked out to the boys.

"Sweet!" Dewey grinned, high-fiving his best friend as they stepped past cobwebs in the alleyway to enter the premise. Huey glanced around nervously.

"Eh, I would feel much safer if Uncle Donald or Great-Uncle Scrooge were with us," the oldest duckling muttered, "I'm starting to think we shouldn't have snuck out of the hotel."

"Yeah, I should have slept this one out," Louie yawned as he lagged behind the other three.

"Do you really think we'll face down the ghost of Torero?" Dewey whispered in glee to Webby, who replied, "Well, every midnight on Mardi Gras, the ghost of the mighty bull Torero roams these very grounds, seeking revenge on the rookie bull that defeated him in bloody, brutal combat!"

Louie and Huey cringed at the mention of "bloody, brutal combat". Dewey was enthralled, however, with stars in his eyes.

"So that's a yes!" Webby finished.

"So from what I've heard from the local tourist center is that we have to stomp on the ground around the inner fences of the ranch, to summon the vengeful spirit of Torero," Dewey recalled, then he pointed over at a dilapidated sign, "Found it! Come on, let's go spectral wrangling!"

Huey decided that now was the time to hammer down some precautions.

"Louie, Webby, you go on ahead! I've found something that I'd like to quickly inspect with Dewey," he said.

"Okay," Webby responded, pulling on Louie's arm, "Come on, Louie!"

Louie was too lethargic to protest.

Huey, meanwhile, pulled Dewey off to the side behind an abandoned taco stand.

"Okay, what is going on?" Dewey demanded, not believing his brother's claims for a second.

"I'm gonna lead the way around the bullpen," Huey stated firmly, "And I am not gonna be disputed on that. Second, you are gonna bring up the rear, since you don't mind chasing danger – which I might add, might sneak up behind us this time. And third, please be aware of our surroundings. No really, be extra aware. This place gives me the creeps, and it's not just the promise of finding ghosts, which is like 60% of what we do with our uncles…"

"Okay, okay," Dewey sighed, "I'd call you paranoid, normally, but I have every intention of letting no harm come to Louie and Webby."

"Good," Huey breathed, "Let's go then."

The two oldest ducklings started making their way back to the other half of their small group. Huey couldn't help but prod at an interesting subject.

"So… you've been spending a lot of time around Webby lately," Huey stated, pretending to sound curiously observant, "Anything interesting going on?"

"Besides our shared thirst for adventure? Yeah! I mean I do like ordering her favorite meal of burger, fries and a milkshake when we go out for takeaway nights, and of course we like binge-watching blockbusters…"

"No, I meant something more… more… coy."

"Coy…?" Dewey pondered, "As in – NO WAY! I'm 10, and she's 9, and – HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT?!"

"Well, when did she tell you her age?" Huey smirked.

"Dude, I just asked her!"

"And you didn't tell me and Louie?"

"Well there's no law about confiding everything with your siblings!" Dewey burst out.

"I'm just saying…" Huey continued, but was cut off by his youngest brother yelling to them.

"Well if you two chickens are finished hanging back, I'd like to get this over with so I can head back to bed!" Louie grumbled, shaking a fist at them.

"Coming!" Dewey called back, hurrying to the others.

"Remember Dewey! You're bringing up the rear when we actually do this suicidal stunt!" Huey reminded his middle brother as he sprinted to catch up.

"Yeah, yeah, Mr Junior Woodchuck."

* * *

"Let me turn my flashlight onto full beam," Huey told Webby as he took up the front, "And then you hold it while I consult the map for possible exits in case this goes wrong – and it probably will – so that we have escape options."

"Can you two multitask while we waddle around waiting for certain death?!" Louie huffed irritably, "I can't believe that your indecisiveness is making me practical! I'm supposed to be the laidback, easy-going guy here!"

"You mean the lazybones, fat-face?" Dewey teased his chubby little brother.

"Whatever," Louie groaned, "I'm sick of telling you guys it's the hoodie that makes me look like a stuffed goose."

When the ducklings had finished marching a complete circuit around the bullpen, they stopped by the gate and waited. And waited. And waited.

"Gah! This was futile! Stupid! Pointless! And futile!" Louie shouted at last, before hopping over the gate, "I'm going back to bed!"

Huey noticed Dewey and Webby looking a bit downcast, though.

"Cheer up, you two," he said to them, "I'm pretty sure there are other supernatural tourist attractions for you to seek adrenaline rushes from."

"Louie has a point though," Webby sighed, "This idea turned out to be dumb."

"And we'll have to contend with sleepiness in the morning," Dewey added, "I just wish that–"

Heavy, snorting echoes cut him off.

Up ahead, Louie shrieked and ran back to them. Huey did his best to hide his own trembling and stepped up.

"Okay," he said to the other kids, "Follow me. I'll find us the quickest way out of here. Webby, you're the torchbearer. Dewey, bring up the rear."

Dewey gave his big brother a brave, determined smile and nodded.

Step by step, the kids snuck closer to the nearest exit. The soil squished softly under their webbed feet.

"We're almost there!" Huey whispered. A cracking sound beside him made him jump.

"What was that?!" Dewey squeaked from the back.

Webby shone the torch on the wall beside them. "I don't remember that crack being there," she murmured fearfully.

Louie heard sounds of heavy thuds beside him. "Oh heavens if we get out of this, I promise I'll start working for a living!"

Dewey stepped back, eyes scanning left and right, up and down. He felt his tailfeathers brush up against something… leather. As quickly as he dared, he turned around.

Glowing red eyes glared down at him, staring out from a horned skull that breathed air akin to hot steam at his face.

"T-T-Torero!" Dewey screeched, "The ghost!"

"Everybody run!" Louie hollered, and he didn't need to say anymore, for the rest of the ducklings scattered in all directions, screaming their little lungs out.

* * *

By the time they managed to escape the stadium (where thankfully the bull's ghost couldn't escape from), it was nearly dawn by the time the ducklings made it back to the hotel. They were dirty, sweaty, and rather the worse for wear.

"I don't know about you guys, but I could sleep for a week after this," Louie whimpered as he panted relentlessly.

"Same here," Webby moaned, clutching her chest where her rapidly beating heart resided.

"Huey," said the blue-clad duckling.

"Yes Dewey?"

"You're bringing up the rear next time."

* * *

 **This drabble is based off that scene in the intro where the kids are looking at a cracked brick wall and a bull's ghost materializes out of nowhere to chase them.**


	2. Generations

**Generations**

As Della grew from a duckling into a fine young duck, she started longing more and more for other girls to share her hobbies with. Finding friends who shared your interests was surprisingly a lot harder if you were her. For one thing, most girls didn't like scaling buildings, and most would rather go biking or to the gym rather than sailing or deep sea diving.

Not that she'd blame them for the last bit of course, as it takes money to go on extreme adventures and sports, and only her Uncle Scrooge could afford expensive trip after expensive trip. Still, she wished she had at least one girl who would be a regular on her quests and (mis)adventures.

She got her wish one day when she was playing soccer in the high school courtyards one lunchtime. She had given the ball a powerful kick that sent it over halfway across the field. The only drawback was that her accuracy was a bit off, and the ball looked as if it would hit a senior student doodling on her notepad under a big shady tree.

But surprisingly, the senior had leaped and rolled out of the ball's trajectory without even looking. The ball rebounded off a trashcan and landed right in her hand.

"Is this yours, junior?" the student asked with a smirk as she eyed Della.

Della squirmed a bit in abashment when she saw that the student she had almost hit was two years above her.

"Yeah… sorry," Della answered, "But that was so cool how you Matrix-dodged that ball!"

"It comes with being an heir of the Foray family," the older student replied.

"No way! You're Catherine Foray! The best teen gymnast in the country!" Della gawked, "How come I've never seen you before?"

"I just transferred here on Friday. I must say, Duckburg is a bit less exciting of a place than Cape Suzette, but this city is known for its successful businessmen, and my parents wanted in on that opportunity," Catherine answered, "Now, what's your name?"

"I'm Della. Della Duck."

"Della Duck? Hold up – as in the niece of the famous billionaire Scrooge McDuck?"

It was Catherine's turn to gape.

"Actually, he's a trillionaire, but a lot of misinformed folk make that mistake," Della corrected, before returning to geek mode, "Oh boy, do you know how much of an honour it is to meet you?!"

"It's always nice to find a fellow rich child wherever I go to school," Catherine grinned, "Though I have to admit, that is NOT very frequent."

"Well, how would you like to go on a hang-gliding trip with me, my twin and my uncle this Saturday?" Della squeaked in excitement.

"Rolling out the red-carpet invitations, I see?" Catherine chuckled, "What, you wanted to make amends by overcompensating?"

"Nah, well maybe," Della flushed a bit in embarrassment again, "But mainly it's easier for rich kids to change timetables to hang out with other rich kids. I figured it could be sort of a girl's day for us two."

"I was joking," Catherine laughed, "Tell your uncle to count me in."

"Really? Yes!" Della whooped, jumping up and pumping a fist in the air.

The bell rang for class.

"I'll see you on Saturday, tiger," Catherine winked as she packed up her schoolbag and headed to the torture known as Calculus.

"See you later, new friend!" Della called back as she sprinted off to Geography class.

* * *

Even years later, Magica still reflected on her once-vibrant friendship with Della. It probably could have lasted beyond a lifetime if it weren't for her family's legacy calling her to her true purpose – stealing Scrooge McDuck's #1 dime.

Of course, Della wouldn't allow that, and despite a heavy heart she confronted Magica.

 _"You lied to me! You're really a De Spell! How could you?!"_

 _"Your uncle doesn't deserve that fortune! You do know that he ultimately values it over your own life, don't you? It should be shared around instead of collecting dust in a vault!"_

 _"You only say that to justify your family's crimes of theft and trickery. It runs in your blood."_

 _"But your uncle's greed does not run in yours, Della. Join me and together we can change the world!"_

 _"I'm not sure if I want to do that with you, Catherine. De Spells bring nothing but pain!"_

 _"Fine! Let me test your claims! Let's see if your family isn't ultimately more miserable than mine! As I speak, your uncle has decided to go on a little family excursion – to find the Spear of Selene!"_

 _"You're not implying that–!"_

 _"Your uncle will steal that accursed spear, with no care for the consequences. I can bet you that he wouldn't give a damn about the safety of his offspring!"_

 _"No… no, that's not true! I'll go with him. He won't choose that spear over his family."_

 _"Go on! Go on, and see! I'll be waiting here for your return – IF you return!"_

Della never did return though, and despite a surprisingly painful pang of guilt in her heart, Magica decided that she would go after McDuck's dime. She didn't reckon on a bitterly vengeful McDuck waiting to trap her soul in an amulet, though.

Now, she could only watch and act from the shadows as the cycle of faux friendships began again in her family, with the next of her kin.

Minima's friendship with the young Vanderquack was puzzling, to say the least.

Minima had no real grasp of the power that she had inherited from her predecessors, yet was willing to throw herself into a deep and complex friendship with a rival.

That act was more dangerous than just striking up a mere companionship. Acting like an acquaintance was a much easier habit to break out of – to betray and take the pragmatic route, the route that would ultimately benefit the De Spell line in the long run.

But getting into close friendships before one's powers were fully developed tempted the user to forgo their heritage, and instead choose their "friends" over their family.

That was something that Magica found repulsive and unacceptable.

Why bother having friends when you could gain the power to shape the world? To change history and mould the future? _That_ is a more valuable thing to possess than a mere friendship.

Besides, even if Minima didn't realize it yet, that was their family's destiny – to be heralds of a new, powerful age in time.

If Magica were completely tangible, she'd take the necessary steps to forbid Minima's relationship with the Vanderquack and instead take up the duty of training her niece for her true purpose.

But the fact is that Magica wasn't tangible. And her niece _did_ have a point in getting close to Webby so as to obtain access to McDuck Manor, even if it was a flimsy one.

So for now, Magica tolerated the friendships that the next generation in her family struck up with the enemy.

* * *

 **Drabble is based on the recent idea that's been floating around the fandom that Lena (Minima) and Webby's friendship is actually a reflection of a friendship that Magica had with Della in her younger days.**

 **Oh, and the alias that I gave young Magica was made by combining June** _ **Foray**_ **and** _ **Catherine**_ **Tate's names.**


	3. Realizations

**Realizations**

 _"This can't keep going on,"_ Dewey thought to himself as he wandered down the halls of McDuck Manor, his woollen jumper keeping him warmly snug in the winter weather.

The chill of the season was so bitterly cold that even the extensive and up-to-date heating system in McDuck Manor was working overtime to barely keep the cold out.

But Dewey was more concerned about the coldness in his heart. The coldness in what he was about to do.

He entered one of the mansion's many living rooms. Each living room had a large, balmy fireplace that kept the room temperature comfortably toasty. But as of the moment, Dewey started feeling a cold sweat run through his feathers.

Slowly, agonizingly, he pulled out a notebook from his shirt's inner pocket. The notebook that he had used to record what info he could find on his mother in the Money Bin Library.

He dragged his feet half-heartedly over to the fireplace.

 _"I love you, Mom."_

And he tossed the book in.

"WHAT?!"

Dewey yelped and whirled about to find Webby standing in the doorway. He quickly motioned "shush" to her, and for her to come inside the room.

"Dewey… why would you do that?" she finally asked as she recollected her wits.

"It was a futile quest," Dewey simply responded, his eyes looking down and unable to meet Webby's.

"But… your Uncle Donald always says that family always helps family…"

"Whatever the reason my Mom had to take that spear and run with it, I'll never truly know," Dewey answered, still downcast, "And it's unlikely I ever will. But I'm certain that she gave her life in the service of something great."

"But I thought… I thought you weren't a quitter, Dewey," Webby stated, unbelievingly.

"I'm not quitting – I'm sacrificing, just like my Mom did. I'm sure of it," Dewey responded, finally looking into Webby's eyes, "And there _is_ a difference."

"Webby," continued Dewey, "Whatever my Mom died for, it had to be for a good cause, ultimately. And she wouldn't want me to linger on something from the past, something that's impossible to attain. She'd want me to enjoy the life I have now – the life I'm certain that I only have because of her sacrifice. I've realized that, when all's said and done, I'm thankful for this life I have with my brothers, with my Uncle Donald, with Great Uncle Scrooge, and with Mrs Beakley and… and you."

Dewey closed his eyes as he blinked his vision clear of tears. He'd move on, he was sure of it. He had to – and he knew he could do it.

Webby, meanwhile, had her heartrate skyrocket with Dewey's last sentence.

 _"Does he really feel that way about me? Golly, I don't know for sure. But… there is one way to find out…"_

Summoning her chipper spirit and courage (which had surprisingly diminished largely in the last few minutes – weird) Webby took slow steps forward. She was a thrill-seeker. And adventurer.

She was adventurous.

And Dewey was adventurous.

He was no Louie, who'd be happy to spend his days conceiving underhanded plans to make his living easy. He was no Huey, who chose cold, hard facts over optimism and hope and faith.

No, Dewey was himself. He was hardworking, yet at the same time fun-loving, and joy-giving. And – here's the important part for her – he was adventurous.

Dewey was Dewey. And there was nobody out there in the big wide universe like him. And Webby might not get that chance to bond and connect with that wonderful kind of duck inside his heart if she didn't pluck up her usual bravery and act.

Right. Now.

"Dewey…? Dewey?" Webby gently prodded verbally. This required delicacy, and though that wasn't her strong suit, she'd try her hardest. For him.

"Dewey… may I?"

The boy duckling slowly raised his head to her level, but still kept his eyes closed in mourning.

"May you what, Webby?"

"This," Webby quickly said, then jammed her beak against his before he could reply.

That's when Dewey finally opened his eyes. Literally, and metaphorically.

 _"She's… she's kissing me… she loves me. She loves… me…"_

His mind was a blur as he raced through his thoughts, his fears, his jubilations and his doubts.

She was his best friend. She agreed with him, sometimes even more than his brothers did, and she spent a lot of time with him. Confiding secrets with him, having fun with him, sharing with him, consoling him (and him with her)…

Perhaps they were more than just best friends…

 _"Do I… do I really love her?"_

The answer came quickly to him when they finally broke away from each other, gasping for breath but still embraced in each other's arms.

 _"Yes… yes I do."_

* * *

 **Drabble came to exist because I'm a Dewey x Webby shipper.**

 **Yeah, I know the writers said that they wouldn't have prepubescent kids get into a romantic relationship – and I applaud them for that.**

 **However, romances can form in the darkest of times, and Dewey and Webby complement each other so much, that in a situation like this, I'd imagine they'd connect very well and very seriously on a deep level.**

 _ **"** **Love is brightest in the dark."  
**_ – **Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Cave of Two Lovers (one of the best Katara x Aang episodes there is)**


	4. Duckling Alone

**Duckling Alone**

She has hated Christmas.

Ever since she was 3.

One Christmas day, her father just wasn't around for her anymore. Literally.

He had up and left her. Or been kidnapped. Or maybe even simply vanished into thin air.

However he had left, the result was still the same.

She was alone, and she was homeless.

At first, little Lena had been crippled with tears and fears. Had she done something wrong? Did her Papa not want her anymore? Was she too naughty and Santa took him away to punish her? Or maybe her dead Mama wanted Papa back with her.

That Christmas when she was 3, she spent it alone, with no presents or loved ones, in a dark and cold house.

She stayed there for a week.

* * *

On New Year's Day, a strange feeling emanating within her aroused her from her dingy bed.

Seeing that it was still dark outside, with heavy piles of snow covering the roof of her house and the ground outside, Lena pulled on one of her dad's snow coats and trudged down the staircase. Her feet shivered on the cold, creaking wood.

She pulled a chair from the dining table for her to stand on and scavenge what little food was left in the pantry. She settled for chocolate biscuits.

Then she made her way to the living room. And that's when it happened.

A powerful surge of wind gusted through the unlit, empty fireplace, leaving Lena's fluffy baby feathers bristling with chilliness. She wrapped the parka tighter around her small frame.

Another gust came, more powerful this time, blowing most of the ashes from the fireplace all over the living room. Lena was now a trembling, charcoal-peppered mess.

Then, a voice from the blackness spoke to her.

"Do not worry, my child. Come forth."

The voice was full of warmth, and soothing to young Lena's ears, so the small duckling waddled forth, closer to the fireplace. A twinkle of purple and pink caught her eye.

There, at the very bottom of the fireplace, still mostly covered by what little of the ash remained, was a purple gemstone.

"What are you waiting for, darling? Pick it up."

Lena did. And she found that it was not just a gemstone, but a necklace.

"Well done," the voice said to her, and the crystal on the pendant glowed pink. The duckling gasped.

"Do not fear, young one. I am here to help."

"Help me?" Lena asked.

"Yes, child."

"How?"

"You are full of magic, young one."

"Magic – like a fairy?" Lena asked, delighted.

"Yes, yes," the voice answered, "I can help you to survive without your parents and teach you magic."

"You will do that? For me?"

"Yes – and do you know why, little one?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm your magical aunt. But you can call me Aunt Magica."

"I… I've always wanted to be special," Lena sighed dreamily, unconsciously clutching the pendant tighter.

"And with my help, you will," Magica promised, "Now, for your first test, try and use your imagination to project me onto a wall."

"Project?" asked the little duckling.

"Project, as in like a light from a torch," Magica explained patiently to the 3-year-old.

"I'll… I'll try," Lena promised. Then she closed her eyes and willed as hard as she could.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw on the worn wall of the living room two red eyes staring back at her. She stumbled back, but then remembered that it was her aunt's projected form.

"Well done, dear. Well done. Now I can visit you from the shadows any time you like from now on."

"I like that," Lena smiled, a warm flow of reassurance entering her little heart.

* * *

The first year on her own, Lena loved it.

She didn't have to go to kindergarten, her aunt helped her take the sweetest candies from the supermarket without having to pay for it, and she learned how to summon and utilize skills like super-strength and invisibility.

She could spend the whole day at the park, and travel on buses and trains unnoticed.

This was freedom. And it felt good.

She missed the friends that she had made at kindergarten, though.

* * *

The second year on her own, Lena learned from her aunt how to heal her own wounds.

Broken bones took a bit longer though.

But her enchanted aunt was very pleased and proud of her progress.

One day, Lena asked her aunt, "How come I can't see you like I can see normal people?"

"Little one, I am trapped in this necklace of yours," Magica explained sorrowfully.

"Why?" Lena asked, upset and disturbed. The thought of being imprisoned in a gemstone strung up with chains was nightmarish to the 5-year-old duckling.

"I was trapped here, by a monster with no soul, and no compassion," Magica continued.

"But… but how can I get you out?" Lena asked desperately.

"In time, when your powers have grown stronger," her aunt answered, "Do not worry. You have greatness in you, Lena, and one day you shall stand tall, and we shall be together. But for now, smile – and be brave."

"Okay Auntie," Lena replied, sniffling a little. She would do her best to be brave and smile luminously in times of darkness.

But if only she knew how hard that would be when she got older.

And healing powers wouldn't work on a broken soul.

* * *

The third year mostly flew by with no problems. Until Thanksgiving approached.

The sirens of the police awoke her from her early evening nap. She saw the law enforcement cars pull up the driveway.

Lena scrambled out of her bed, which had now attained multiple holes in the blanket and the mattress, and snatched up her necklace from the bedside table.

"Auntie! What do I do?" she pleaded, hoping her heart out for a miracle.

The shadow slinked up beside a window. "You'll have to make a run for it, Lena. They're not gonna be happy that you are living without your parents."

"But I'm not! I'm living with you!"

"They won't care about that!" the shadow yelled at the duckling, who flinched back a little, "They only care about taking you to prison!"

"No… no-no-no-no…" Lena mumbled, tears starting to flow freely as she panicked.

"Lena! Listen to _me_! You have to _run_ and you have to run _now_!"

And she did.

Down the staircase, into the basement, and out the back entrance. The leaves blown about in the backyard by the fierce autumn winds helped conceal her, along with a little magic from her aunt.

Try as she might, try as much as she wanted to, Lena never looked back.

* * *

The fourth year alone was her hardest. The year when her heart grew darker, and her spirit more heavy with grief.

Her first dwelling place was under an arched stone bridge that ran over a river.

She quickly learned telekinesis from her aunt to pick up and kill the fish in the river for food. She started her campfires with laser vision and twigs and branches that she scavenged for during the day.

She found an abandoned crate big enough for her to shelter in during the long, cold nights. The only possession she had brought with her was the shirt on her back and her blanket.

She often shivered and cried herself to sleep.

She also smelled _terrible_ after a couple of weeks, though bathing in the river – despite its frostiness – was refreshing. She got accustomed to it after a few more tries.

But then one day that bridge, and the suburb it was part of, was claimed by the Beagle Boys. One morning, just before dawn, a scavenging patrol scoured the stream and were nearing the bridge. They found the little duckling sleeping in her box.

They picked her up and threw her to the ground.

The rough impact and the taste of blood in her beak jolted Lena to consciousness. She screamed her little lungs out as the Beagles advanced on her, cackling and taunting.

Then a shroud of darkness consumed them, and when it evaporated all that was left were their bodies, devoid of life.

Magica told her niece to make a run for it again.

Worn blanket draped across her small frame, Lena did.

Her second refuge was in an abandoned car factory.

Well, at least it was better sleeping in the seats of rusting automobiles than it was in an enclosed and claustrophobic crate.

* * *

Year five, and honestly, this duckling was getting weary of life.

She had to walk to a nearby town to scrape through the bins for the slightest scraps.

Half a piece of buttered toast was just enough to satisfy her for breakfast.

Her lunch consisted of 10 stolen hot dogs – which was more than enough to make her nauseous. But honestly, Lena would take what she would get. Stealing was getting easier now, her invisibility spells lasting a few minutes at a time now.

Dinner was usually dumped noodles, or pieces of sushi.

What made her smile the most though was when she found a decent stash of fish and chips, or nachos covered with cheese-sauce, in the garbage.

* * *

Year six was mostly uneventful.

Same old, same old.

Wake up, walk to the town, breakfast in the trash, practice, lunch in the trash, practice, maybe the occasional theft, dinner in the trash, walk back to factory, sleep.

No one disturbed her hiding place at all during the year, which was good. And that left a lot of time in her schedule to practice with her Auntie.

Her magic grew stronger every day. Perhaps this way of life would be worth something after all.

* * *

She thought that too soon.

Early at the start of her seventh year alone, Lena found out from listening in to gossip around the town, that construction teams would begin tearing down that factory by the start of next week. Which only gave her a day to pack.

So, in a leather backpack that she had nicked from the local high school, she packed her belongings – which consisted of a bag of cookies, two can of beans, a water bottle, her old blanket, and a new black and grey striped shirt.

And she found herself trekking again. Miserably.

It was still winter, and her naked webbed feet felt numb with cold. They felt almost frozen, and it seemed like they were gonna fall off.

"Why me?" shuddered Lena, bracing herself against a chilly breeze.

Her trailing shadow formed into that of her aunt. Magica's only expressive features, her red glowing eyes, scowled as she gazed upon the duckling.

"Frostbitten feet – now that will _never_ do," Magica commented.

She conspired with her niece that tonight, when they got back to Duckburg city, they would break into a shoe shop and steal whatever Lena wanted.

They did exactly that, though Magica was left befuddled when Lena only left with two pairs of the same type of green sneakers – one was larger and would be used when Lena grew into them, and the other one Lena would start wearing tomorrow.

Tomorrow came, and with elation tainted by bitterness, Lena slipped on her new shoes.

They kept her feet warm, so they did their purpose. Though she would have to wear them most of the time, to make sure they didn't get stolen. She didn't have a house to keep her belongings safe anymore, after all.

Still, she hated the unnatural habit. Ducks were much more happier going barefoot when they could, and would only wear shoes when nature gave them a reason to, or if they needed to be formal.

 _Or_ , if they were a deluded fashionista with a repulsive air of arrogance around them. (Lena hated ducks like that.)

But alas, she didn't have a roof over her head like most other ducks. She only had a backpack, the clothes on her back, and the shoes on her feet.

She could, she _should_ , consider herself fortunate.

So she'd have to live with it.

* * *

Year eight alone.

Balcony life wasn't so bad, if only for one little thing.

Her aunt was becoming more stricter in magic lessons.

"Your form is not correct! Straighten yourself! More power comes from the will! Stop being a weakling and learn to fend for yourself!" were her aunt's favorite phrases to say nowadays.

Well, what did her aunt want from her? Enhanced endurance was an advanced skill to try and learn.

One day, Lena got fed up.

"You're not my Mom, and you are definitely _not_ my Dad, so stop ordering me about like I'm _your_ child!"

Her aunt's shadow simply glared at her.

"How can you feel attachment to a mother you _never even knew_? And your father… have you ever considered the fact that he has _hidden_ some truths from you?"

That was a verbal punch in the gut for Lena.

"What… what do you mean?"

"I am cursed to stay in this crystal, forever – until the end of time."

"But who would do that to you?" asked Lena, trembling.

"Scrooge McDuck. The world's richest duck, a trillionaire who resides in Duckburg. A being who exists solely for greed, and nothing else. He imprisoned me here when I suggested that he be more… _charitable_."

"But are you stuck there… forever?" Lena inquired hesitantly.

"Yes – unless you can steal the most precious thing in Scrooge McDuck's life – the object that gives him his most solid defence against us – his first ever dime."

"How's a dime a defence?"

"Possessions can be used by people to channel magic – or to defend against it," Magica explained, "You have to steal that dime. But sadly, you are not ready."

"Why does it sound like you're blaming me?" Lena queried, a slight indignance to her tone.

"You are often stubborn, and a lot of the time, stupid. You are brilliant when you commit yourself, but that is few and far between. You'd rather draw _pictures_ and write frivolous dreams and stories _instead_ of living in the glory of magic," Magica ranted, "That is what normal people do! You aren't normal! You are superior! Or you would be – if you didn't waste time on such meaningless things."

"I don't have to take that!" Lena snapped, and did her best to will her aunt's shadow to nothingness. It would only be temporary, but at least she'd have time to herself again – which was a curse and a blessing.

At first, it seemed as if she'd done it, and her aunt wouldn't be bothering her for a while.

Then, her shadow melted into her aunt's form again.

"Now, now, dear. Maybe you should grow stronger before trying a ridiculous stunt like that again."

Lena kicked a dumpster in frustration and screamed.

* * *

Year nine.

"Would you get off that newfangled nonsense!" her aunt's shadow shouted at her as she scrolled through internet pages on her new (stolen) cellphone.

"Why would I? I get much more joy from this than I do with you," the snarky 12-year-old shot back, "Besides, I've already practiced for 4 hours straight."

"Do not be ungrateful, child! I am providing for you even though I am trapped in this abominable prison!" her aunt sneered.

"Yeah, you're providing for me so well – which is why I'm stuck living here in this godforsaken amphitheatre down by the cold docks," Lena grumbled, not even looking up from her phone.

"You _will_ practice!"

"Eh, probably not."

"Then you can have all of your _fun_ living by yourself!" the shadow screeched at her, and inwardly Lena flinched.

She didn't want her aunt to leave her, as overbearing as Magica was.

"Alright," Lena sighed, putting her phone by her bag, "Fine."

"Good. And now listen closely, my heir," Magica commanded, and reluctantly Lena obeyed, "Though you have yet to complete your training, you have progressed far. I shall christen you with a moniker truly worthy of your heritage. Lena will only become an illusion now. From this day on, you will rise, Minima!"

"Minima, seriously?" Lena rolled her eyes, "That's like, a cheap knockoff of your name, Auntie."

"Child, are you serious?" Magica rumbled dangerously.

Lena wisely decided to shake her head.

 _No._

* * *

Ten years of living alone. Ten years of living with her aunt.

And yet her aunt hadn't planned anything to celebrate the occasion. At first, Lena thought she had forgotten. Then the days passed. And then days began turning into weeks.

It seemed that family celebrations and anniversaries were secondary matters to Magica.

What mattered most to her aunt, it seemed, was Revenge.

She listened drably to her aunt's umpteenth repetition of the plan.

"When you see those ducklings take their boat out, one of them will not fit in. Chances are that the one left behind will be the young Vanderquack, friend to the McDuck-Duck heirs and granddaughter of the McDuck Mansion housekeeper. Befriending her is your best bet at gaining access to the mansion."

"Gee, maybe I should write this down," Lena muttered.

"Minima!" scolded her aunt. The now-teenaged duckling waved her aunt off.

"Ugh, just stick to the plan," Magica ordered, before her essence retreated into the crystal necklace.

"Well, that won't be hard," Lena grumbled, and pouted mulishly as she set about writing her "bait letters" – fake messages that would draw in her target.

* * *

It worked quicker than she expected.

"I'm here to save either a sailor, a group of sailors, or a shark from a sea-serpent-pirate-M-agent-and-or-scurvy!" a girl duckling's voice boldly announced.

Lena glanced up at her target. The kid couldn't have been more than 9.

 _Hmm. This shall be interesting for me. She looks to be everything I never was._

"What?" the teenager replied, feigning befuddlement, "N-No, those are from me. I'm just messing around, you know, like a game."

"Fun!" the duckling replied, eagerly scooting over to where Lena sat, "Let me try!"

A few seconds of scribbling and plopping parchment in a bottle later, the younger girl was finished and passed up her work to the older one for critique.

"Please recycle this bottle. Okay, I don't think you get this game," Lena commented, though her heart concealed a pulse of mirth at the younger girl's unique style.

"Hi, I'm Webby," the kid replied.

 _She trusts so easily. Is that weird, or am I weird?_

"Mm, hey," Lena said as she shook Webby's outstretched hand British-style.

"Is that a vintage Sumerian talisman?"

 _And… she's pretty sharp for her age, too._

"Dunno, found it at a thrift shop," came Lena's quick reply, her hand sparing no moment in tucking her necklace under her shirt.

"Oh, uh, you got some pink in your hair – I think someone pranked you," Webby stated not 3 seconds later.

 _Well, she noticed that recent change before my Aunt did._

"It's supposed to look this way," Lena said simply, betraying no surprise at the younger duckling's quick-wittedness.

True enough…

"I like your shirt!" Webby quickly commented in reply.

"Mm, not my shirt – actually got it off the lead singer of the Featherweights after a gig in Paris," Lena lied. Well, it wasn't a total lie. Her shirt was an authentic copy that quickly sold out in stores – only that she again stole it from one of the few high schools in Duckburg.

"You've _been_ to _Paris_?!" Webby squealed in delight. Lena almost broke her aloof façade in favour of chuckling.

"You _haven't_? Oh, you've gotta go! It's like here, only fancier."

"I've always wanted to go to Paris," Webby sighed dreamily, "Crawl around in the catacombs, maybe touch a skull…"

Webby didn't notice that she had stepped beside the last bottle in stock until her foot found itself kicking glass and a splash rang through the air one second later.

"Well, game over," Lena muttered as she watched the bottle get carried away by a mild current.

"I got it!" Webby replied enthusiastically, and hopscotched across the nearby rocks. Well, more like utilized insane gymnastic skills to reach the bottle and retrieve it. She made it look astoundingly fun.

 _And she has more talent than I had at that age._

As this wistful observation crept into the back of Lena's mind, Webby's infectious upbeat behaviour beat it away.

"Here!" Webby beamed proudly, handing her the bottle.

"That was actually pretty _cool_ ," Lena genuinely stated, her admiration for this little fluffball of energy growing by the second, "Are you like, in the circus or something?"

"Circus acrobats keep elephant hairs in their pockets for good luck!" Webby randomly blabbered, "I don't know why I just told you that, or why I'm still talking, or why I pointed out the fact I'm still talking, or–"

"Whoa, easy Flippy," Lena soothed.

 _So she's socially awkward and I'm not. That is at least one thing I can help her out with, if Aunt Magica would allow that. Why am I hoping that she does…?_

"Webby," the younger duckling corrected.

 _And I haven't properly introduced myself to her yet. Wow._

"Lena," the older duckling stated her own name, "Thanks for the bottle."

Lena put her last fake message in and tossed it backwards in a wide arc to the ocean. It's not like anyone had to read the last thing that she wrote.

(But for your information, the last thing Lena wrote was in fact _not_ a fake message. Here it is in its entirety: _Never mind about coming to help. A friend already has._ )

"Hey, do you wanna come with me to this blowout on the edge of town?" Lena asked, turning back to Webby, whose eyes immediately flashed with interest, "It should be cool."

"I've never actually seen a proper explosion!" Webby squeaked with delight.

"It's another name for party," Lena corrected with a smirk, but it wasn't a mean one.

"Yep! Totally knew that!" Webby fibbed sheepishly. Then a thought occurred to her. "Could we just wait for my friends so I could let them know where I'm going?"

"But the party could be over by then. Come on, it'll be an adventure," Lena said. It was her own fib, and to her slight self-loathing it was much more immoral.

There was no party. She just wanted to get herself and Webby in hot water with the Beagle Boys and then assist each other in pulling through for survival. A cliché but often sure-fire way of gaining the trust and friendship of an unsuspecting person. And Webby was that unsuspecting person.

As the 9-year-old joined her in her excursion, Lena pushed down a bite of guilt.

Webby had fallen right into her trap.

But at the same time, Lena hoped that the end result of all this family feuds would spare the young Vanderquack.

Sure, her Aunt needed to be freed, and Webby could become a potential obstacle (and enemy) preventing her from reaching that goal – but at the same time, Lena found herself _caring_ for Webby.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Webby had taken a shine to her so easily… and, she obviously saw Lena as a new friend.

Lena was having trouble getting over the fact that Webby was the first friend she had ever had in _years_ …

Years…

Years of being alone, living a cruddy life under many roofs (sometimes not even under a roof at all), getting yelled at by her Auntie, and just in general scraping along in unwanted isolation just to _survive_ … well…

In all honesty, even if Webby _might_ become her enemy in future ( _hopefully not_ ), Lena was just happy to have found herself a friend.

 _A friend._

She was no longer alone.

(Her baleful Aunt _did not_ count as company. Besides, she was only a shadow. Not a mother or father duck who would take her in their arms and cradle her whenever she wanted it. Even if her Aunt did ever want to be that sympathetic towards her, _she was still just a shadow_. She wasn't there for her the way a parent or guardian _should_ be.)

Yes, she was no longer alone.

 _I'm not alone._

* * *

 **Based on the fandom idea that Magica and Della had something to do with each other's disappearances, and the show's hints that Lena is homeless.**

 **Based on what I wrote here, unless the show gives some actual dates and ages, here are my head-cannon ages for the kids:  
Lena (13)  
Huey (10)  
Dewey (10)  
Louie (10)  
Webby (9)**


	5. Belongings

**Belongings**

The common person would say that Huey was the brains of their family. And they aren't wrong. The eldest triplet was the most academically capable of his brothers – possibly his generation, even.

But academics aren't always relevant to everyday life.

Sometimes the most important things – the most precious knowledge – can only be obtained through savviness and personal discernment.

And that was Dewey's repertoire, not Huey's.

It shouldn't have surprised Scrooge then, really, when Dewey knocked on the door of his office one day (and came in without waiting for a reply). The duckling got straight to his point.

"Does Launchpad's plane actually belong to my mother?"

The mention of Della, even if not by name, was enough to sting Scrooge's ears a little bit.

"What are you talking about, lad?"

"That plane! Was that my mother's, which was passed onto Launchpad when she disappeared?" Dewey pressed on.

"No, that is Launchpad's own property," Scrooge replied, barely concealing a stutter.

"But logically Launchpad – as accident-prone as he is – _wouldn't_ have enough in his salary to pay for his own plane, or the repairs that it _always frequently_ needs!" Dewey explained, in a surprisingly skilled show of deciphering, "So that means it has to belong under your name, really!"

"Okay, lad, yes! That plane is part of my estate!" Scrooge admitted in frustrated humiliation at being caught red-handed.

"And it belonged to my mother, didn't it…?" Dewey asked, trailing off in deliberation.

"And if it did, what makes ye want to brood about that theory?" Scrooge asked suspiciously.

Dewey inwardly cringed and mentally slapped himself. "You seem to have all information about my mother locked up in a metaphorical treasure chest, away from me and my brothers' eyes," he stated in response, cautiously just relaying information that was obvious.

"Lad, have ye ever heard the saying: 'curiosity killed the calf'?" Scrooge questioned.

"Asking information about my mother – that is the right of me and my brothers to know – will not and should not kill me!" Dewey snapped.

"She's gone, lad! And to be straightforward, you and your brothers are lucky enough to have your uncle taking care of you as it is! Honestly, I _am_ surprised and _quite relieved_ to see that my nephew _has not_ started growing grey feathers yet!" Scrooge retorted fiercely.

"I get it – you're trying to guilt trip me into being a good little boy who doesn't question his elders when they screw up!" Dewey fumed, "You don't give a fluff about my mother's belongings – who she _was_ – after that whole Spear of Selene incident – whatever the heck that was!"

"Get out," Scrooge growled. Dewey stubbornly harrumphed at his great-uncle's command.

" _Make_ me."

"Get _out_ of my office, _now_! Or so help me, I _will_ have Beakley place you under room arrest until I say otherwise!" Scrooge angrily bellowed.

At this threat, Dewey was taken aback – but only slightly. He glared at his great-uncle tearfully as he opened the office door and slammed it on his way out.

From behind the door, Scrooge heard his great-nephew scream, "You can't keep my mother a secret forever, old man!"

But Scrooge didn't reply to this threat. He knew that, eventually, his great-nephew would be proven right.

He could take, hide, and destroy Della's belongings.

But as for her identity, _that_ he could never touch. Even if he wanted to.

* * *

 **Prompt given to me by the lovely acw28.**

 **Prompt was:** _ **"Can't wait to see what happens when someone asks Scrooge why he already had an airplane even though he didn't know Launchpad was a pilot."**_

 **After a few minutes of thinking, this idea seemed the most obvious to me.**

 **(I hope the show touches on this topic, if this is indeed the case in canon.)**


	6. Family Bonds

**Family Bonds**

What awoke Lena from her pleasant slumber was the sounds of plaintive sniffling.

Her eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the darkness, but it took several more moments before Lena found the energy to leave her warm, cozy blankets. Her new bed was a blessing. In fact, her whole new life was a gift of luxury. Lena very much treasured having four walls surrounding her, and a roof over her head.

Her feet touched the soft carpet – it felt _so good_ to be able to go to sleep without your feet being stuffed in sneakers at all hours – and she started making her way to the source of the sniffling.

Webby's bed.

It was on the opposite side of the room. Lena carefully trodded over crayons and plush dolls, some of which were endowed to her – she had never owned anything significant before. Her phone and her clothes were just meant to help her scrape by. But here – here she had things to build her own identity, things to give her joy, things that were her own.

From now on, in this place, her existence mattered. Not just to herself, but to other people too. Scrooge and Beakley doted over her as much as they did over Webby and the boys. Donald was a loving guardian – something that she had never had, not since she was very young. Their love to her was unconditional.

And for once, she could be free to give back her own unconditional love without any reproach.

Webby would always appreciate it.

"Webby?" Lena whispered to the younger duckling, who was crying in her sleep. But she aroused at the sound of her name.

"Lena?" Webby murmured, her voice thick with tears, before she realized, "Oh. I'm fine. Thanks for checking up on me though."

"Hold on, Pink," Lena held up a hand and used her affectionate nickname for Webby, "You were having a nightmare, weren't you?"

"No, just a bad dream," Webby answered.

"Is there a difference?" Lena inquired, "I was always under the impression that they were the same thing."

"Well, nightmares are dreams where horrible things happen to you – like torture, death, or being cryogenically frozen," stated Webby earnestly, "Bad dreams are when unlucky or sad stuff happens to ya."

"Oh," said Lena simply.

An awkward moment of silence passed between the two girls.

Then Lena continued.

"Do you still want to talk about it?"

"Well, I think it would help if I did," shrugged Webby as she pulled her legs out from under the covers. Lena crawled on the bed next to her.

The younger duckling began describing her dream.

"Well, it was about my parents. Like my Granny, they were spies, and, well, they were on their final mission. But this time, I was there – with them. We fought together. We came _so close_ to getting out alive…"

Webby hesitated, almost unable to go on.

"But I couldn't save them. They got captured, but I couldn't save them. Even Granny couldn't. It's not fair," the younger girl moaned, "It's not fair! They – they were amazing spies! They were heroes… but they still couldn't save themselves."

Lena crawled over to Webby and enveloped her in a hug. The two girls stayed like that for several minutes, the younger one letting out her heart's grief while the older one held her close. At last, Lena found her voice.

"I never knew my Mom. She disappeared soon after I was born. I was mostly raised by my Dad," the teenaged duckling recalled, her own eyes starting to build up tears, "Then one day, he was gone. I couldn't have been more than 3 at the time. I still think my Aunt had something to do with it."

Lena remembered all those years she had lived under her aunt's metaphorical iron grip. She had been too young and naïve to question her cruddy lifestyle then, but now – now she had realized everything that had happened, and she hated her aunt for it. How could a family member abuse a _child_ like that?

"Every now and then, I still wish upon a star that my parents would come back to me one day," Lena continued, "But if I have to accept things the way they are, then there's little chance of that."

It was Webby's turn to hug Lena close as the older duckling let out her sobs.

"But there's always hope," she said to Lena.

Lena reigned her grief in.

"But… I'd totally accept my parents not coming back. You know why, Webbster?"

"Why?"

"Because when I had no one to turn to, you came into my life. You welcomed me into your family. And now, that hole in my heart where my parents used to be has now been filled," answered Lena, rubbing a sleeve on her eyes to get rid of the droplets of tears.

Webby preferred using her own hands to rub her eyes. The moonlight seemed to have illuminated what once was an overwhelming darkness, and the two ducklings could now see each other crisp and clear in a pale chiaroscuro.

Darkness countered by Light.

Webby threw herself against Lena's chest for another hug.

"You know," she said to the older girl, "I've always wanted a sister."

"So have I," replied Lena, hugging Webby close to her heart.

"So have I."

* * *

 **Fingers crossed that Lena does become one of the family in the future!**


	7. My Mummy

**My Mummy**

They were dragging Dewey's bloodied and limp body out from the burning ruins of the mansion when she appeared.

Like a spectre from old Hollywood supernatural flicks, Della Duck's white form materialized from the mists and the smoke.

Louie noticed the way that Webby's eyes suddenly seemed to sparkle – tears of relief, happiness, and it also seemed that there was a hint of envy too. He couldn't blame her. The chances of her mother making a mysterious and miraculous comeback was somehow much lower, he instinctively suspected. Louie wasn't as smart as Huey, but when it came to primal hunches, Louie's deductions were never wrong.

In his heart, he knew that Uncle Donald would be alright. He had seen his uncle at his protective peak, and he had learned that it would take a cruel ruse by the universe for the enemies of the McDuck-Duck clan to have any chance of taking his uncle down. Besides, Lena had stayed by his uncle's side to buy the younger kids more time to make a break to safety. Magica was a powerful rogue with solid connections, but Uncle Donald was practically a one-duck army. And Lena was strong in her magic.

So even though the last time Louie saw them was them facing down the entirety of the Beagle Boy Gang, he knew – he somehow just _knew_ – that the both of them would be just fine.

Besides, right now, Beakley and his Great-Uncle Scrooge were in a far worse position. They had surrendered to Magica in exchange for Lena's freedom and Dewey's body. Afterwards, Magica had vanished with both of the elderly ducks, and soon all hell had broken loose at the mansion when the Beagles and Glomgold arrived.

After several long minutes of hiding, fighting, and _just staying alive_ , the family's enemies had had enough and went about setting up detonation charges around the property. Deliberate arson on the Beagles' part helped to force the ducklings out from the vents. They had just made it out the front door when McDuck Manor imploded with a thundering boom.

Caked in dust, and coughing up soot from their small lungs, the 3 out of 4 ducklings who were still conscious couldn't find the energy to articulate much of their feelings when they found Della making her way to them through the smoke, the mist, and the flames.

"Hush, my babies. You're safe now," she murmured softly to them as she caressed a palm over each of their heads. She then focused on the battered and comatose Dewey.

Louie couldn't help choking out a sob as Della gently took the middle triplet in her arms and slung him over one shoulder. He quickly glanced over at Huey, seeing if his oldest brother would make any claim, any statement of shock, any denial that this couldn't possibly be true. But strangely, Huey was catatonically silent, staring only at their dam. It didn't look like Huey would be speaking anytime soon to their mother, and a rather indignant feeling towards Huey bubbled up inside Louie's veins.

 _Seriously? How dare he think of himself as the leader when he can't even think straight in times like these._

And suddenly, Louie's base instincts overtook him. Something _had_ to be said. Anything – any word, any action – needed to happen.

"Ma…?" his voice sounded so small, so vulnerable, and very much dependent. His mummy was standing here right now, right in front of him. Louie found motivation powering his muscles, and a childish instinct washed over him, and suddenly he wanted to wrap himself around his mother's leg and never let go.

His full strength returned to him a moment later, and he found himself doing just that.

"Yes, baby," his mother's voice flowed through his ears and entered his heart, "Mummy's here now. Mummy's right here for you. Now and forever."

The tears spilled like a river from his eyes. Louie was the baby of his brothers, a fact that they always chided and teased him about, but he never cared about that – and he didn't care now. He had once went through a phase when he was little, spending as much hours of the day bemoaning out loud that their mother had abandoned them. That she didn't love them. That she didn't and never cared. But all of that was a past façade, a futile denial from a desperate, grieving little boy.

All Louie wanted was his mother in his life. That would be the greatest treasure of all to him. And now, here she was. Tangible in flesh and feathers. Him hugging her leg and never wanting to let go. She loved him and his brothers, very much like Uncle Donald – so there was really no way to ever believe that she had never cared.

No. They're family had been cursed, thanks to Scrooge, and only now the worst of the storm was coming to pass. His mother had been taken against her will, and against his will. But now, against all the odds, she was back.

And that filled all of the holes in his heart. His family's wealth now mattered very little. Their adventurous spirit seemed such like a trivial trait now. He never had the opportunity to dwell on feelings and thoughts like this when he was younger – but now all that mattered right at this moment was that his mother was _here_.

And Louie realized that that was all he ever truly wanted in life.

"Mummy…" he sobbed, gasping for breath as his little beak grazed her leg, "Mummy…"

"Yes, my baby," Della said once more, her own voice cracking and her own eyes starting to build up with tears, "I'm here."

Here right now. Here right beside him. Here in his heart. Here with him always.

Her hand cradled the back of his head lovingly, and Louie continued to spill out his heart, his bitter tears of grief mingling with the golden triumph of elation.

"My Mummy."

* * *

 **To summarize the context behind this mini-arc, Lena finally manages to steal Scrooge's #1 Dime and free her Aunt.**

 **Magica then allies with Glomgold and the Beagle Boys. They kidnap Dewey, who was making his way over to the Money Bin to access the archives again and search for more information on his Mom.**

 **Magica tortures Dewey to the point of near-death (yeah, I'm one of those authors with the tendency to make my favourite characters suffer, LOL), and when Scrooge and Beakley arrive to rescue the middle triplet, they find out the truth about Lena. They then give themselves over in exchange for the two kids.**

 **Lena returns to McDuck Manor with Dewey's comatose body. Magica sets the Beagle Boys to attack the manor. Donald and Lena buy the boys and Webby time to escape. The manor is destroyed, and the situation is at a dark crossroad.**

 **But then Della Duck suddenly shows up.**

 **Author's Note:  
** **I don't know if I'll make a separate story out of this. I mean, it would take a lot of planning – way much more planning than what I've currently got for** _ **Unethical**_ **(which will be continued in around 2 weeks!).**

 **Ultimately, I'm just using this imagined situation of mine to explore the characters rather than build up excitement for future episodes. I don't know if the show will ever get as dark as some of us would like to infer from the current canon, but hey, there's nothing dang wrong with hoping that the writers of the show take Disney Television to new heights.**


	8. No Relation

**Continues on from "My Mummy".**

* * *

 **No Relation**

"You're not my mother."

Hearing that from her eldest child did not surprise Della in the slightest.

"I don't have a mother."

Hearing that as well hurt her heart, but still Della did not object.

Her firstborn had a right to vent out his frustrations. Someone had to inherit the family's temper, after all.

"A mother wouldn't leave her children with their unfortunate uncle – still mourning from the loss of his sister – and then come back, _years_ later, and expect a warm welcome," Huey huffed, not bothering to face her, but his voice holding evident irritation, "Louie might have latched onto you, but I won't. I don't need to. I've managed this long without you, and I can manage much longer still."

"I know," Della prodded tentatively, her soul wounded and her valour non-existent, "And I'm proud that you have, Hubert."

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Huey snapped, "You lost that right to call me that when you left me to take care of my brothers. When you left Uncle Donald to take care of the three of us! How could you DO _that_?!"

"Huey…"

"I'm not finished yet!" the frustrated duckling burst out, finally spinning around. Now there was no doubt in Della's mind that her oldest son had been crying – the bloodshot and teary eyes were obvious evidence.

"How could you leave your little brother behind, with such a burden on his shoulders? Didn't it ever occur to you that he needed your guidance, your support – the kind that only a big sibling can give? How could you leave one night, expecting and hoping, with all your heart, that I would do the same for my brothers, when _you_ couldn't even do that yourself?!"

Lightning flashed outside the cave that they were hiding in, and Della saw for one brief moment how broken her child was. The rainstorm, an outpouring of grief and sorrow, was broken for several moments by a scream of thunder – a thunder that echoed with a tormented howl in Huey's broken heart.

"Why did you have to come back now? Why now, when we've lost Uncle Donald, Great-Uncle Scrooge, and Mrs Beakley? Why… Mom?" Huey choked out the last word, catching his mother by surprise.

"I was so lost, and afraid, and hurt…" the words tumbled out of Huey's beak in unkempt fashion. He no longer cared about sounding prim. How could he care after everything that had happened?

"Uncle Donald loved us, and he told us of how much you loved us. And thanks to Dewey, we know that you made a great sacrifice out of love to keep us safe – but I'd rather have faced the danger with you instead of you going off alone and leaving us, Mom."

Fresh tears flowed down Huey's face.

"Without you, I grew up a coward. A smart duckling, but a coward. My brothers – my dear little brothers – believe it or not they have the hearts of a lion, Ma. Can you believe that?"

"I do, son."

"And while they got bravery and guile, I just ended up getting the sin of wrath from Uncle Donald. There were times when I couldn't handle this shamble of a lifestyle, and my world would just turn red. It was _awful_ , knowing that I could throw out all of this hurt to the people I love… But right now, I don't even know if I love you, Ma. It's just been so long."

"I understand," replied Della, her face betraying no emotion. She couldn't break down yet. She didn't deserve to.

"You say that, but I don't think you _really_ do understand. I've got so much pain in my life, Ma. We all do, in fact," stated Huey as he gestured to the sleeping forms of Webby and Louie in one corner, and to the injured and still-comatose form of Dewey wrapped under several layers of blankets.

Huey took a much needed breath.

"And just because you came back into our lives, doesn't make much difference to be frank."

Della, her own eyes brimming with tears, closed them and bowed her head in submission to Huey's facts.

Of course, _he_ would be the one to have inherited her brains. It just pained her so much to see that her firstborn had also inherited her brother's emotional passion.

Emotions – when handled well – became an integral, mental set of best friends to a person.

But if wielded unchecked – if one always wore their heart on their sleeve – then emotions could also be the self-destructive tools that would shatter a person's soul.

And right now, her son – her beautiful son – had been shattered and put back together several times already. But now, the ugly cracks had become visible, and it seemed it would always be that way from now on.

Still, though, Della's heart skipped a beat when Huey surged against her leg and wrapped his arms around it.

He was looking for her love and support. A maternal love and support that was a long time in coming.

"I missed you, Mom. But I don't know if my heart can ever love you the same way again…" Huey whimpered as his eyes finally started to run out of tears.

"My son," Della began gently, "I know that our family has let you down – and that I've let you down the most, especially. But from now on, I will be at you and your brothers' side. Always. Nothing more will tear us apart. From now on, _nothing_ can tear us apart. And even if the love we share right now can never reach the peaks we had when you were in my womb, whatever love I have from you will always be enough. Enough to keep me breathing, to keep me living. To keep me fighting to protect you. I'm here now, my Hubert. My brave, smart, strong, dear little Hubert."

The storm outside the cave had stopped, and Huey looked up to see his mother's loving face illuminated by the moonlight. It was a beautiful, comforting sight – one that he would fondly remember on his dying day.

He closed his eyes and let his head rest against his mother's leg again, his heart beginning to finally feel peace at last.

"Thanks Mom."

* * *

 **I'm guessing, if Della is alive and returns to her family, that Huey would be the triplet who would chew her out for her disappearance. Dewey and Louie would just be too happy having their mother back to be ticked off.**

 **And if you're** _ **Avatar: The Last Airbender**_ **fans, don't be too surprised if this scene sounds somewhat familiar.**

 **I took inspiration for this oneshot from "The Awakening", where Katara angrily and tearfully calls out her father for leaving her and Sokka behind to go off and fight in the war.**

 **I just have my fingers crossed that if Della is reunited with her family in canon, that there will be some huge drama and feels to go down.**


	9. Last Lullaby

**Last Lullaby**

Food? Check.

Water? Check.

Toiletries? Check.

Travel backpack? Check.

Della paused her hurried yet careful packing, to stare at the Spear of Selene standing upright at the corner of her room. Her uncle was so blinded by his greed – Magica would come after that spear. She'd harm their family with her black magic to get what she desired.

But not if Della could help it.

She had snuck into Scrooge's treasure room and looted the spear. They should never have taken it.

She heard a fragile wail emanating from the cradle beside her bed.

She picked up her youngest baby, stroking his fluffy baby feathers tenderly.

"Don't worry, Louis. Mama's here, and she loves you so much. She just has to go do something quick. It's important – for everyone's safety, even yours – but I'll come back for you, my little sweetie pie. Be good now."

Little Louis, crying now ceased, was placed back on the left side of his big brother, Dewford.

 _"I cannot take them,"_ Della thought sadly to herself as she pulled her backpack on, _"I will have to leave them with someone I trust. Not my uncle though, because that selfish slob is the cause for all of this. He'd never understand. But Donald – he would."_

Placing her favorite pilot's cap on her head, Della made sure her iconic goggles were also on top. Then she grabbed a pen and paper and began writing hastily.

 _"To my dear twin, Donald. I have an urgent errand to run, an errand unsuitable for young infants tagging along. Henceforth, I am sending you your angel nephews – Huey, Dewey and Louie – to stay with you until I come back. Hopefully, if all goes well, I won't be away too long. Take care of my darling babies, little brother. I know you'll love them well in my absence. Love, your twin sister Della."_

With that done, Della got a big enough basket, and gently placed her infant triplets – her greatest treasure of all – inside.

Then, with the basket in one hand, she grabbed the Spear of Selene with the other, and sprinted out of her room, out of the mansion, and out of her uncle's life.

* * *

The run down to Donald's boat, which was moored at the harbour, took only a few minutes. Della was still in top shape, thanks to her early years of serving in the Air Force.

This might be the last time she'd ever see her family again.

Perhaps she didn't want to see her uncle again – not after what he had done. But she had a little twin brother who had grown up alongside her, who had relied on her for emotional and judgmental support. She had Auntie Matilda, a second mother to her after hers died many years ago.

Most of all, though, she had three little baby boys, who depended and relied on her for the love and care that only a mother could provide.

She quietly walked up the planks to the deck of Donald's boat. She had just set down the basket and was about to knock and discreetly make a break for it, when a plaintive outburst of crying stopped her in her tracks.

It was her middle son this time. Dewford.

Despite being wedged in between Louis, and his older brother Hubert, he had gotten his tiny arms free, and was waving them instinctively in her direction, even though his small eyes hadn't developed enough to see clearly yet.

Desperate wails were emanating from his precious little beak, and even though babies couldn't speak English, Della knew – just like all mothers – what her infant son was crying about.

The translation of that cry? _Don't go, Mom._

Della got to her knees and silently set the spear off to the side. With both hands free, she could cuddle her little treasure.

She might never see her sons again. They wouldn't feed from her milk. They wouldn't feel her touch. They wouldn't see her proud gaze, or know about how much she deeply, truly loved them.

But, if this was indeed to be her last time with her children, perhaps she could leave them a piece of maternal love that they could cling to, for the entirety of their lifetimes.

 _"Hush now, my babies.  
_ _I love you, don't cry.  
_ _Sleep as you're rocked by the sea.  
_ _Sleep and remember my last lullaby.  
_ _I'll be with you in memory."_

Della watched as her little Dewey's eyes slowly drooped shut, and his wailing cease to peaceful silence. He was still small, but she could feel the beating of a strong heart within him.

Planting a kiss on his forehead, she placed him back between his brothers, then planted kisses on them too.

Then, taking the spear back in one hand, she tapped her free fist against the metal door, eliciting loud clangs. Her babies remained placid in their sleeping, though.

A light turned on from the bedroom on the top floor, and Della knew she had to make haste before she was spotted.

The last thing she'd give to her brother would be a note and her children – living memories of her, with a bit of him added as well.

And as for her sons? They would have her brother watching over them in her absence. They'd have a cool boat to live on and sail around the world. They'd have mementos from their uncle about her, and they'd grow up listening to his fond recollections of her. Her brother would give them the world.

And she had given them her memory, in one last lullaby.

She would never truly leave them.

* * *

 **Just watched** _ **The Prince of Egypt**_ **for the first time in ages, and I gotta tell ya all, Yocheved's lullaby hit me** _ **hard**_ **. Like wow, I've never appreciated that song as deeply as I do now.**

 **So I couldn't help but write about Della singing this song to her babies before leaving them at her brother's place. Some lyrics are just modified to suit the story better.**

 **Also, new DuckTales episodes today! AT LAST!**


	10. Aftermath of Moorshire

**Aftermath of Moorshire**

Launchpad parked the limo inside the hull of the Sunchaser, then set about fastening it down as Scrooge and the kids made their way up to the passenger cabin to settle in for the overnight flight back to Duckburg.

Their latest escapade at Moorshire had been harrowing to say the least. But it had also been rewarding.

"Hey, Dewford," Louie called to his middle brother, using his full name to tease him, "Let me and Huey look at that golden honour of yours."

Dewey looked at the golf trophy in his hands. "Alright, but don't even think of stealing it, you two! This baby's going up on my top shelf."

"Relax, Louie and I wouldn't dream of stealing it," Huey said in defense of his youngest brother, "And if he does try to, I'll foil him."

"You're one to talk, Mr Sore-cause-I-didn't-get-an-internship," Louie smoothly fired back, expecting that quip from Huey.

"That was a different matter entirely. And it wasn't even a fair one," Huey responded with a frown, "Besides, me and Dewey are past that now. He knows that I'd beat him fair and square in an actual career selection."

"Yeah, okay," Dewey smirked, rolling his eyes before pausing to add emphasis to his next line, "Unless it's for golf."

"Ha ha ha," drawled Huey in a complete monotone. He walked up to Dewey and took the trophy from his hands. "Let me and Louie see that thing now."

Before Dewey could respond to his older brother snatching _his_ trophy off of him, Webby pulled him aside. "Where are we going?" Dewey asked as the girl brought them just outside the door of the toilet cubicle.

"Don't let them get to you, Dewey," said Webby with a smile on her face, "They're just jealous that you were the hero of the day again."

"Don't mention this to them, Webbs," mumbled Dewey, looking down somewhat ashamedly, "But I faltered at the last hole. I was panicking after you guys had turned to stone. At the time, I thought I'd lost my whole family, minus Uncle Donald. That sadness turned into panic and I could've missed the shot. Though if I had truly lost you guys forever, I don't think I would've cared. I would've wanted to join you all in death."

Webby slid a gentle palm under Dewey's beak, delicately lifting up the lower mandible so his head wasn't drooping anymore.

"Don't dwell on stuff like that, Dewey," she said, her voice containing warm undertones of encouragement, "You did it. You scored the shot, you won the game, and you saved us all. What's that term you use again…?"

"What term do I use?" asked Dewey in confusion.

But Webby was only pulling his leg.

She quickly seized the moment, leaning over on tiptoes to peck a quick kiss on his cheek.

"You nailed it," she answered for him. Then she turned swiftly and skipped off back to the main cabin section to find a seat.

Dewey was left too stunned and star-struck to think straight for a minute.

After recollecting his thoughts, a giddy smile and chuckle escaped from him. Then he had an epiphany of a different sort of kind.

* * *

"Hey!" exclaimed Dewey as he rejoined his brothers in their seats. He was just in time do so too, for a few seconds later, Launchpad started thundering the plane down one of the runways of Stornoway Airport.

"Nice to have you back with us, Dewford," Louie welcomed him with a tease.

"Hey, are you still taking offers to be a caddy? I could use one when I go on a social match," Dewey grinned, "Or are you still on Glomgold's payroll?"

"Oh come on! You know I was trying to make him miserable this entire time!" the green-clad triplet burst out indignantly.

"Really? No sweat then. Except for the part where you wanted payment from me before passing the club up on the final hole," Dewey beamed, then his tone dropped in pitch to sound more sincere, "Seriously though, that was savvy businessman behaviour from you. Uncle Scrooge may choose you to be his successor."

"Thanks for that," smiled Louie in genuine gratitude.

Then Dewey turned to Huey.

"You know how you are 3 seconds older than me, right?" he asked his older brother.

"Right…" Huey answered warily.

"Well, you were petrified for 20 seconds, so…"

"It wasn't 20 seconds!" burst out Huey.

"Okay, 10 seconds," amended Dewey, "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm now biologically older than you!"

To Huey's annoyance, Louie perked up at this.

"Really? Ha! I can't believe I didn't realize that until now! Thanks Dewey!" the youngest triplet laughed, clutching his sides.

"Come now, that doesn't change our personalities," Huey muttered crossly, "I'm still the responsible one!"

"You still are! I never said otherwise," chortled Dewey, "I mean, chronologically speaking, you're still older. But biologically speaking – I AM!"

And while Louie and Dewey continued to laugh their lungs out at this solid scientific fact, Huey just glared at them with a pout on his beak.

Eventually though, after a few more moments, he joined his little brothers in their mirth.

After all, when one thought about the fact, and made the belated connection between the dots, it _was_ a pretty funny realization.

* * *

 **This was going to be in 2 parts originally.**

 **Part 1 would have had Webby pulling the kiss-and-run on Dewey, while Part 2 would have been the "Dewey is now biologically older than Huey" realization.**

 **Honestly, once your mind clarifies the truth behind that fact, you'll smack yourselves for not realizing it sooner – like I also did!**


	11. Always Shall Be

**Always Shall Be**

Webby watched in horror as Magica disappeared in a flash of purple lightning and smog.

When the thick mists cleared, she spotted Lena lying face-down on the unforgiving stone floor.

Webby ran to her best friend in the whole world as fast as her legs would carry her.

"Lena…" she whispered, fearful that if her voice rose any higher, her friend's thin lifeline to mortality would be severed.

"Webby," Lena murmured back, as her eyes slowly rolled open. Though her voice was firm, it didn't match the dazed and unfocused look on the teen's face, especially with the way that her eyes were glassy.

The hopeful illusion finally broke when Lena tried to speak again, but instead gurgled up blood.

"No… you can't go!" said Webby tearfully, shaking her head in meek defiance of the inevitable, "Not you too…"

"Webby… thank you… for saving me…" the young teen breathed, shallow and delirious.

"I did nothing… you were the one who saved my family," the younger girl sighed, slowly accepting the coming end of an era.

"And I too, am now your family… your sister… you gave me that chance…" answered Lena softly, her voice straining more and more with the effort not to lose her life any more quicker, "I am sorry, only for the times that I have hurt you, and for the future ahead where I can't be with you anymore…"

"I hope you find peace in the afterlife, Lena," croaked Webby, barely keeping her own voice from breaking.

"Thanks to you, I will," responded Lena, struggling to keep her eyes open, but the light in them was fading fast.

Only seconds remained now.

"I need… your bracelet… my aunt made me take off the one you made… for me…"

Though confused and still in complete distress, Webby complied, taking off her own friendship bracelet and handing it to Lena.

The teen slipped the bracelet onto her right wrist. Then she spoke for the final time, her dimming voice carried by the cavernous structure of Magica's abandoned lair.

"I have been… and I always shall be… your friend…"

Her eyes closed, her body became still – but glowed blue just as the life left her.

Then after a blinding flash, Lena was gone.

And Webby was alone.

She didn't care when the ground beneath her started to shake violently.

She barely registered footsteps coming her way, and Dewey yelling over to her in panic.

"Mt Vesuvius is erupting! We have to go now, Webby!"

She still didn't respond, nor did she move from her slumped position.

In the end, Dewey had to take her arm and drag her to safety. Her mind focused just enough for her feet to keep pace with his, before eventually they got to the Sunchaser, and Launchpad took off. Just in time.

* * *

Webby told the story of Lena's sacrifice to her family. Scrooge gave an order to Launchpad to fly the plane for a triple flyover across Mt Vesuvius, staying clear of the ash cloud, in memoriam of the young teen who had given her life to save theirs.

Donald and Beakley told her repeatedly that Lena's death wasn't her fault. It never was.

"I know it isn't," replied Webby, "But that doesn't make it any less painful. She deserved better – a better chance, a better family, a better life…"

"Webbigail, my dear, _you_ gave her that chance. That family. And that life," Beakley finished, firm in her experience of grieving death and moving on with the rest of life. She already had that experience with several fellow agents, one of whom was her own daughter, Margaret – Webby's mother.

Her son-in-law had also been killed alongside her daughter, necessitating Webby's transfer under her care. Despite the duckling resembling both parents, it would never fill the void in Beakley's heart. But still, that was life, and there were still other treasures to appreciate. One just had to make the choice to move on.

* * *

Webby held hands with the people closest to her as the plane began its banking turn over Mt Vesuvius.

One hand was holding Dewey's. The other, her grandmother's.

Scrooge took out a pair of emergency bagpipes that he said were kept on-board the plane for situations that required reverence. This was such a time.

Before he started playing, he mused about hoping that his skills hadn't gone rusty. It had been over ten years since he had last played the pipes in loving tribute to a deceased family member – the boys' mother.

Scrooge's fears turned out to be for naught. The tune of "Amazing Grace" came out strong, solemn, and without flaw or hesitance.

* * *

Webby sat on the floor of the plane's cargo bay, looking at the friendship bracelet on her wrist. A bracelet that had been shared between her, and the friend that she had treasured the most in her life.

Footsteps metallically echoing off the staircase leading to the cargo bay caught her attention. She spun around, but withheld the urge to strike a fighting pose. Though her martial skills were as sharp as ever, her aggressive tendencies had mellowed in the past few months. Besides, there was no one on the plane who would attack her.

The visitor turned out to be Huey.

"Dewey sent me to check up on you," he simply said, "He isn't the emotional type, and I think Lena's death was hard on him too. Though he didn't interact much with her like the rest of us did, they had a lot in common. He must know how you feel, but he can't relate it properly to you yet without sounding… desperate, might I say."

"I don't blame him," said Webby with a wilting sigh, "I can't cope much with this turn of events either. I don't really want to talk with anyone right now, but at the same time, someone has to know how I feel."

Webby paused for a moment, looking at Huey. His role as the big brother had never seemed this critical before.

"I suppose you wouldn't mind being a third wheel for support?" she queried the red triplet.

"I suppose I do not mind that at all. What do you need?" Huey responded.

"What _is_ the silver lining in all of this?" Webby asked, still downcast but starting to accept the reality of the events that had occurred during the past few hours.

"About Lena? Well, I can only give you this advice from Uncle Donald," Huey took a moment before continuing, "Miss her, but don't grieve her. For she is free."

"Thanks, Huey. You can go now, if you'd like," Webby said, flashing the smallest of sad smiles.

Huey took the hint, nodded, and walked back up the staircase.

Webby turned to one of the cargo bay windows. The clouds were a dark grey blanket beneath her. But the sun, even as it started to set, was still high above the clouds.

The light coming in through the windows was a mixture of gold and pink. Pink, in memory of Lena.

* * *

Death would come for all living beings, eventually.

Life was like flying high in the sky, racing the sun. But it was merely just a moment in the span of the universe.

Death was the coming night, and the dark clouds that waited below, lying patiently at the end of all things, and awaiting the fall of those whose time had come.

But death was also a cleansing, and a new beginning. It was the end of all the bad, all the flaws, and all the errors.

And it was also the gateway to eternal life for the good.

And life was just that. Living a good existence as much as you could, culminating in a happy ever after, after death.

Lena had found hers.

And one day, Webby would too.

* * *

 _"I have been, and I always shall be, your friend."_

 _"Yes. Now, and forevermore."_

* * *

 **Based off the infamous climax of _Wrath of Khan_ , and one of my many theories about how Lena's arc could end.**


	12. Teenagers

**The prompt is from the recent fan theory that Webby is older than the boys in the 2017 continuity.**

 **Given that the writers said that she's a year younger than Lena…**

* * *

 **Teenagers**

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Webbigail, happy birthday to you!"

"Aw, how sweet of you guys!" Webby beamed as her granny placed the cake on the table in front of her.

Huey immediately started counting the candles.

"Wait a minute," he interrupted, "I spot 13 candles on your cake. Are you really 13? You're pretty short for a teenager."

"You must be pretty tall for an 11-year-old," Webby shrugged, then proceeded to blow out the candles. Beside her, Lena chimed in.

"It's common for boys to start having a growth spurt at 10," the shadow-made-real teen interjected, "I'm not that tall either. You'll probably reach my height in 2 or 3 years."

"Aren't you a living shadow? That would kind of indicate that your body's not exactly what we would call normal," Louie spoke up, before Dewey elbowed him.

"How tactless," the middle triplet commented.

"My granddaughter also hatched prematurely, so that would be another factor in her shorter-than-average height," stated Mrs Beakley.

"She'll catch up soon enough though. I know I did," added Launchpad.

Donald handed Webby the knife to slice the cake.

"Hear you go dear," the triplets' uncle said to her.

Webby sliced the cake swiftly and with perfect accuracy.

"As soon as you catch up to the boys in height, however, they'll soon outgrow you _again_ ," Donald notified the birthday girl, "Because she was the older twin, Della was always an inch taller than me in height, but as soon as the teenage years came, I towered over her by half a head."

"I see. No big," Webby smiled as she replied perkily.

* * *

Once everyone had had several servings of raspberry birthday cake, the kids went off to play outside while the adults tidied up the dining room. Twilight had just arrived as the setting sun disappeared underneath the horizon several moments ago.

While Huey and Louie argued about which games to play – Louie was pretty sure that no one wanted to play a trivia game on a hot summer's evening, while Huey was adamant that they did – Webby, Lena and Dewey sprawled themselves comfortably underneath a tree.

For a while, everything was perfect – Huey and Louie's bickering in the background aside – and the atmosphere was peaceful. No dangers, no ghosts, no demons, and no witches. For now, time belonged to them, and the three ducklings savoured the placid aura in companionable silence.

Eventually, Lena spoke up.

"You'll be in college soon," she said to the younger girl.

Beside her, Webby looked up to her best friend in slight confusion.

"Pardon me?"

"You'll be off doing what normal teenagers do," Lena went on wistfully, "Going to high school, getting into sleepovers, achieving A-plus exam grades and the like. You have a new road ahead to travel."

Webby picked up on her friend's melancholy.

"And you'll be right there at my side," the birthday girl replied.

"How?" questioned Lena, "I'm just a shadow. Shadows aren't meant to play. They aren't meant to study. They aren't meant to hang out, or to go to school. One time your grandmother said, even though it was before you all rescued me, that I didn't have a bright future, unlike you guys. She wasn't wrong."

"Well, she was definitely wrong about sheltering Webby for almost all of her life," Dewey piped in, "And by the way, Webby doesn't go to school either. Beakley home-schools her. In fact, she also home-schools me and my brothers."

"And who's to say that you can't join us?" Webby finished.

At this, Lena sat up and pulled them both into a hug.

"You two really are my best friends," she breathed softly, tearful but overjoyed.

"Touché," responded Dewey, as Webby tightened her embrace on the both of them.


End file.
